


Asa’ethilast

by lyriumlovesong



Series: The Rabbit and The Lion [15]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Light Angst, Sex Positive, Sometimes being practical sucks, pro-choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 04:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyriumlovesong/pseuds/lyriumlovesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freya Lavellan is a practical person. She knows she has to make pragmatic decisions so she can lead the Inquisition. That doesn't make it any less difficult, sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asa’ethilast

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one-shot I couldn't get out of my head while I was working on Eir'melana.

The little mug of tea on Freya’s desk steeped away, steam rising from the hot water as dark brown clouds bloomed from the little cloth envelope, coloring the clear liquid. She dunked the bag a few times, homogenizing the mixture.

She was used to the fragrant, almost overpoweringly botanical smell by now, the not-quite-liquorice flavor that accompanied the bitter taste as she swallowed the infusion.

Humans knew the preparation colloquially as “The Whore’s Friend.” Freya had always hated this name. 

For one, the word “whore” had never sat right with her. It had such negative connotations, and it was always spoken with the same kind of inflections and facial expressions you’d see when someone was discussing a cockroach, as opposed to a person who was simply making an honest living with the talents they had. And, if people were really being truthful with themselves, being a carpenter or a soldier or a milliner was just as much “selling one’s body” as prostitution.

The other thing that bothered her about it was that it seemed to assume that only a person who was engaged in that oldest of professions would be interested in what this particular tea had to offer. There were a thousand reasons it might be necessary, not the least of which was a woman's right to govern her own body.

The Dalish simply called it _Asa’ethilast._ “Her choice.”

It wasn't nearly the first time in her life she'd taken it regularly, but it was the first time it had ever hurt to do it. She never drank it in front of Cullen. She didn’t think she could, for either of their sakes. He knew she was taking it, of course, but it was rarely something they talked about. It was too heavy a subject, weighing down the air between them so that even drawing a full breath became a struggle for them both. 

So she’d wait until he left for morning drills, and then she’d pour herself some boiling water, bring it to her chambers, and drink in solitude.

It was necessary, she knew. There was no question of that. That didn’t quite make it easier, but thinking about the Inquisition, about all they had left to accomplish before they were safe, was enough to steel her resolve on the mornings when it would falter.

The tea had never failed to work, and it was always with a mixture of relief and regret that she welcomed the flood of scarlet that marked her moon cycle each month.

There had been one particularly emotional morning, soon after she had gone through the clan’s belongings, when the sight of blood on her sheets had hit her especially hard.

Cullen had awoken to her poorly masked sniffles, and he'd seen the red stain between her legs. After confirming she wasn’t hurt, he’d wrapped her up in his arms, rocking her gently the way he did when she was especially upset. He hadn’t had to ask what was the matter.

"Not _never,_ Freya," he’d whispered in her ear. "Just not now."

She watched the swirling tendrils of vapor float into the air, recalling their tender lovemaking the previous night. She subconsciously put a hand to her belly, wondering if even now a little something was beginning to knit itself together inside her womb--a perfect little being created through an act of love at the wrong point in time. Another unnamed victim of Corypheus’ war.

Taking a deep breath, Freya took the steaming mug in her hands and raised it to her lips.

  
_ Not never. Just not now. _


End file.
